


Tomorrow

by SuddenlySullen



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 14:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlySullen/pseuds/SuddenlySullen
Summary: Peter is destroyed after the snap. He's standing on the ledge of a building trying to work up the nerve to jump and not catch himself when he finds himself face to mask with someone he's never met before.





	Tomorrow

Peter took a deep breath, the cold night air of the city burning his lungs. His jeans and hoodie didn’t do much to keep him warm, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care if he got frostbite. His eyes burned too, but he seemed to have run out of tears to cry. His mind was a constant replay of Tony snapping Thanos and his army out of existence. He could barely leave the house without passing a memorial. He couldn’t open his phone without seeing a new headline about him. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Tony’s face, like it was burned into the back of his eyelids. Part of him wondered if it had hurt, thinking about the feeling of himself being erased from the universe. Everyone had told him that it would get easier and that they would be there for him, but here he was alone on a rooftop in Queens at 4am while everyone else seemed to have already moved on. His stomach ached from hunger pains. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate or drank anything. It all tasted like plain mashed potatoes. He stood on the edge of the building, he guessed about twenty stories high, looking down at the ground. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to convince himself to either jump or go home, but his feet stayed glued in place.

“Hey,” a voice spoke up from behind him.

Peter turned around, not even bothering to do so quickly. If someone had come to kill him, it would be a kindness. He was met with a red and black mask, eerily similar to his own. He tried to think if he had met this hero before, but he could barely remember the names of any of the people he had fought alongside at the end, and none of them had bothered to come back, so he decided he probably didn’t know this guy. He looked up at the eyes of the mask, unable to even will himself to answer.

“I won’t pretend to understand,” the guy kept talking, “but I can offer take-out.” He held out a Taco Bell bag.

Peter cocked his head to one side. “Not really hungry,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m never hungry before I off myself either.” The masked man took a couple of slow steps toward him. “Always starving when I wake up though.” Peter thought he must have made some sort of face, since the man kept on talking. “Deadpool.” He pointed at himself. “You might’ve heard of me. Can’t die.”

“Sorry,” Peter shook his head. “Where were you when…” His voice trailed off.

“Funny story,” he took several more steps toward Peter and held his hand out. “I’ll tell you if you come on down from there and sit with me while I eat. You can have some if you want, but no pressure.”

Peter looked over his shoulder at the ledge and let out a sigh.

“You can always do it tomorrow.” Deadpool shrugged.

Peter felt the first slight smile in months cross his face before he let out a short laugh. “Okay,” he jumped down off the ledge and took Deadpool’s hand. “Tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Deadpool paused. “I don’t know your name.”

“Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter Parker.” Deadpool tugged his hand and led him to the roof access door to the building they were standing on. “I’m not sure who was looking out for you or who was looking out for me and brought you to my building, but I’m kinda glad they did.”

“Why’s that?” Peter could tell his voice was still flatter than was probably normal, but Deadpool didn’t seem to notice. He followed the larger man into the building, letting the door bang shut behind him.

“The world’s lost enough,” was all that Deadpool replied, leading him down the stairs and to the first door on the top floor. “Welcome to Casa Del Deadpool,” he said, opening the door into an apartment that might have rivaled Peter’s bedroom for filth. “Have a seat on the couch if you want and try to ignore the stench. I promise it was at least sort of like that when I moved in.”

Peter smiled slightly, stepping further into the apartment and crossing to the couch, plopping himself down.The exhaustion caught up with him when his butt hit the cushions, making him feel like there was a hundred pound weight on his lap, stopping him from getting up.

“Okay, so,” Deadpool flopped down on the other end of the couch and set the bag of tacos between them. “Dig in if you want, there’s like…. two hundred soft shells in there.”

“I wanna hear this story,” Peter cocked his head at Deadpool, but did reach into the bag and grab a taco.

“So, I was on this submarine, cause I got a job to go take out this guy in North Korea. Not the big guy but like… one of the underlings. So, anyway,” Deadpool rolled up his mask, revealing bright scars across the entire bottom half of his face. “I’m on this submarine, minding my own business, in the cargo bay because where else do you stow away on a fucking  _ submarine _ Peter.”

Peter took a bite of his taco without thinking about it, listening intently to the story that Deadpool was telling him.

“So after a while it seems like I’ve been on this submarine for a  _ really  _ long time. And, you know, I’m a pretty patient guy but everyone’s got their limit, right? So I tippy-toe my way out of the cargo bay, real ninja-like,” he took another bite, and Peter swore he didn’t even chew before swallowing. “But there’s no one on the whole ship. And I mean there’s only like thirty guys on those things to begin with, but there was  _ no one.”  _ He threw his hands around when he spoke, sending lettuce flying off his taco and into Peter’s hair.

Giving Deadpool a look, Peter plucked it out and took a bite of his own taco, motioning for him to keep talking.

“Until I made it to the chow room, whatever they call those on submarines and there’s five guys left and they all look like they’ve seen a fucking ghost already and then yours truly walks in and they start  _ screaming  _ and it takes like an hour for me to convince them that I am not, actually, Death herself. I mean, look at this mug, Peter. She would be offended at the implication. So they finally calm down and they tell me that everyone just,” Deadpool made a popping sound with his mouth.

Peter felt himself tense up at the mention of people disappearing, but Deadpool either didn’t notice or did him a favor and ignored it.

“They had tried to contact whoever their people were. They were Portugese, by the way, which is not my best language, so there was a lot of angry Spanish translating. They couldn’t get anybody on shore and none of them actually knew how to  _ drive  _ the fucking thing. They said it had been six months.  _ Six months _ ! So we go to the drivey part of the thing and I’m like, okay this can’t be that hard, right?”

Deadpool looked at Peter like he wanted an answer, so Peter offered a shrug as he took the last bite of his taco.

“Wrong, baby boy. Very wrong.” Deadpool shook his head, taking another bite of his own taco and handing Peter a fresh one. “So I sit down in this thing and the controls are all in  _ fucking Portugese _ because of course they are. And I’ve flown some planes and driven some boats, but I’ve never tried to drive a fucking submarine, you know? You can’t just find someone offering lessons. And we’re out in the middle of the fucking ocean anyway. So step one, we had to get this thing to the surface somehow so that maybe we could get spotted or find our way to  _ land  _ at least. Something, right?”

Peter nodded along, chewing absentmindedly.

“You’d think they’d have an emergency ‘get the fuck up to air’ button on those things, but no. Just a bunch of numbers and a manual that’s in fucking Portugese. So it took us another few months to even figure out how to get the thing to go up. I’m pretty sure I pissed off a whale at one point cause I ran into it. But that’s not the point, where was I?”

“You made it to the surface,” Peter mumbled around a mouthful of taco.

“Right, so there we are, floating in the middle of the fucking Atlantic ocean. Of course we can’t see land anywhere because that would be too easy.”

“Of course,” Peter confirmed, nodding his head as he took another bite. 

“So we take shifts standing on top of the thing and looking for something, anything. It takes us another 18 fucking months to float anywhere where we can even see land. It’s a good thing those things are stocked for three years for thirty people, cause if they weren’t, I think the guys might have started taking off strips of me and cooking them up.”

Peter gagged.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, baby boy, I would have done the butchering for them. No need to scar them with that. And I’m a team player, ya know? I wouldn’t let my boys die. Like, forever. Especially if all I gotta do is donate some thigh steak. You seen these thighs? I’m dummy thicc. I got some to spare.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he should laugh or feel sick, but after everything he had seen, he landed on laughing.

“Alright, see, you get it. So we keep on floating along. A few times I swore we were going backwards. By the time we made it to shore, like another year and a half later, we were in Indonesia. And of course I don’t speak any island languages and neither do my Portugese bros. With their broken English and the locals’ broken English, we figure out that it happened everywhere. So of course I try to call Logan and he sends me straight to voicemail, as usual. So I try everyone else and no one is answering. So I figure some of them must be gone and the rest are probably just disappointed that I made it, right? Right. We were still trying to figure out what had happened, we had only been there for a couple months I think, and,” Deadpool made another popping sound with his mouth, “suddenly people were re-appearing in the streets. It was total chaos, baby boy. People were running around crazy looking for everyone they lost. And you know, I’m me, so I didn’t really have anyone to lose cause no one gives a shit about me, but it was touching, you know?”

Peter hummed softly. He could feel his eyelids getting heavy now that he had actual food in his stomach.

“So that’s it, really.” Deadpool shrugged. “I saw on TV that the Avengers did some timey-wimey stuff and undid whatever the angry kool aid man did. It was a good story, right?” He paused for a long moment. “Do you still wanna off yourself?” His voice shook a little, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“I can always do it tomorrow,” Peter answered. 


End file.
